


Sink Back In The Ocean

by howveryzoe



Category: Frühlings Erwachen | Spring Awakening - Frank Wedekind, Spring Awakening - Sheik/Sater
Genre: Gross, I Don't Even Know, M/M, Modern AU, Some violence?, and technically i didn't this was written before i swore that, i love lydia and that's why im posting this, i said i wasn't gonna write another hernst, im gonna write some stuff for the girls soon bc tbh i only care about anna, reference to past rape and death?, this is basically entirely based on the anya reiss version and those characterizations, this is such a bitter fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 02:59:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10505019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/howveryzoe/pseuds/howveryzoe
Summary: It's been about a month since Wendla died and Ernst is still holding on tight.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ShippingEverything](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShippingEverything/gifts).



> So just some things to know: this is based on the anya reiss version (look it up it's brilliant) and like not really on the musical and loosely on the play.  
> some things that are canon in this version of the play that make this fic make sense:  
> ernst is a stoner in this and hanschen a drug dealer. ernst and moritz weren't that close friends, ernst teases him a bit. ernst blatantly hates melchior after he rapes wendla and blames melchior for it and her death. ernst has been pining over hanschen for some time (it's implied) and hanschen recently requited that affection. ernst's parents don't really pay that much attention to him. hanschen lives with his grandparents (so he's probably an orphan or something). miss twizzle is their teacher. all the other boys are assholes. max von trenk wasn't hanschen's friend he was otto's brother so i didn't bring him up.  
> i think that's it.  
> this is literally just a fic of me being bitter about characterization on this site.  
> have fun.

Melchior Gabor is just a blur of blood and the black fabric of his hoodie at this point. Ernst has long stopped being able to make out his features or even hear him shouting. At first it was just shouts of surprise and attempts to placate him but now it’s just turned to moaning. But the wind seems to rush past Ernst’s ear too fast and he can’t seem to think straight. One word seems to go through his head “wendla” over and over like some sort of alarm. And maybe he’s tricked himself into thinking that if he hits Melchior enough his little cousin will be there. Calling him Ernie and making fun of the stains on his shirt. Every blow, every spew of blood, is a chink in her grave. He can do it, he just has to hit hard enough, he just has to move fast enough, aim his kicks well enough, he can’t stop, he can’t rest, he can’t breathe, he can’t-

He finds his body lifted into the air suddenly and without warning. His feet seem to be kicking in the air and he’s reared backwards, his eyes taking in the startling grey-blue sky above. Arms that are strong and tight hold him up as he squirms and kicks in them after coming to his senses. 

“Put me down! Let me go!” He screams, kicking at the body beneath him. Melchior is rising to his feet, in front of him. Stumbling a little as he tries to walk, he wipes the blood off of his face. But he can’t, he shouldn’t. Ernst digs his nails into the arms that hold him back, trying to get down, get back at Melchior, to not let him recover.

“Calm down! Ernst!” It’s Hans’ voice, deep and soothing, his teeth gritted. “Do you know how much trouble you’re gonna get in?” The words shake him and for a moment he stops struggling against the larger boy. The prospect of the principle’s office and a lowering in his GPA not to mention his parent’s lecture (if they'd care about anything it was this) race through his head. But the second they're in his head they're out again and he resumes his squirming and kicking. He's not a coward.

“Fuck you! Fuck you!” He spits and digs his nails into Hans’ arm. The circle of students who had been watching the fight begin to laugh after Ernst makes a swift kick to Hans’ knee sending him rearing back a step awkwardly.

“Can't you give him a sedative or something?” Otto asks making Georg and Robert holler with laughter. Ernst can't even focus enough to shoot them a glare. 

Melchior begins to run away just then. Having come to his senses he starts back towards the school gates to dash home. Now desperation to catch him surges through Ernst and he pushes at the arms one more time. Hans’ grip slips and Ernst plummets to the floor, his body crashing into the pavement. His arms reach out to break his fall and his palms and knees sting. He looks at them, skinned beyond belief. 

“Get out of here all of you!” Hans screams at the onlookers. No one moves for lack of fear of him or shock Ernst can't tell. “Get out before I get Ms.Twizzle!” That's enough motivation, Hans Rilow would snitch and everyone knows it, and they scatter reluctantly out of the school yard. Otto muttering under his breath as he goes,

“He's lost it, he fucking lost it, I knew he would someday. All that shit he takes.” Georg and Robert nod in agreement. As they reach the gate Robert turns around smirking.

“Hey Rilow! Maybe you should just put him down while you have the chance? Don’t they say it’s mercy killing when the dog is rabid?” Otto slaps his back and Georg, who seems to find the comment particularly hilarious, wipes his glasses from tears. Robert grins proud of his attempt to impress Otto. Georg, not wanting to be left out, makes a barking noise and scruffs up his face. By the time they're out of Ernst’s sight they're walking sideways with laughter. 

Ernst spits on the ground, making the dusty playground floor dark where the glob lands. Hans stands looking down at him almost blankly for a second. Finally he speaks.

“You gonna take a swing at me too or have you worn yourself out?” Hans asks.

“Huh?” Ernst says, looking up at the taller boy. 

“I mean like should I leave you or are you a civil human being again?” He says harshly. 

“I don't know, are you a civil human being?” Ernst queries angrily, his eyes narrowing with distaste. “Or are you still being an ice cold, two faced, asshole?”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Emotion rises into Hans’ voice and Ernst wipes his bloody hands on his jeans.

“You should've helped me! You know as well as I do what he did! Or are you too afraid of getting in trouble huh?” Ernst tries to rise to his level but finds his knees too achey from his fall to stand. Hans sighs loudly. 

“I don't see how breaking Melchior’s nose will do anything? And besides you didn't seem this strung out when Stiefel offed himself. I mean I sure didn't see you and his dad-”

“Shut up! Shut up!” Ernst screeches his voice scratchy and breaking a little at the top. “It was different! You know it was different.” His tone is accusing, daring Hans to contradict him. Daring him to provoke him. At this point he might even punch him too. The quiet of their night in the park seems to be forgotten by now.

“Maybe it was but this is useless. You're behaving like a child. If I solved every issue I had by throwing fists I'd be in juvy by now and my business would be a disaster.” Hans rolls his eyes. “I mean what are you gonna do now, kill Otto, Georg, and Robert?” 

“I don't know.” Ernst says and Hans laughs bitterly. “I could. I should. I should kill you too.” 

“Okay Ernst.” Hans is really laughing now, his eyebrows raised up to the top of his forehead. Ernst wants to slap the grin off his face. How dare he. “I’m pretty sure a lot of what happened in the park contradicts that. But maybe I’m wrong about you. Maybe you’re the ice cold one. I mean it’d be pretty ice cold to tell someone you love them and then murder them but who knows.” 

That’s enough to make Ernst leap to his feet and meet Hans’ gaze. He finds himself surprised by the emotion in the other boy’s face. Hurt is marked in the other boy’s eyes. The words weren’t meant as a jibe at Ernst. He’s genuinely upset about Ernst’s anger at him. 

“I’m sorry Hans.” Ernst says softly. He feels calmer now. Hans didn’t do anything wrong. At least no more than the rest of them had. Because in thinking about what happened Ernst can’t help but come to the conclusion that they all played a role in Wendla’s death. Even him. 

“We should get you cleaned up.” Hans says after a moment of silence. “You're bleeding.” 

Ernst stares at his hands, the cold December wind makes them feel raw and naked. “I'm fine. It's my fault anyway.” Hans gives no response to that. “I don't wanna go home. Not now.”

“You can come to my house.” There's hope in the other boy’s voice and Ernst wants to laugh despite himself. A few months ago that offer alone would've made him convulse with joy. This whole situation, Hans caring about him, going out of his way to help him, seeking him out, Ernst would've loved it. He'd spent so long pining after him he didn't even realize that the tables turned. Now the offer means nothing. Now all he wants is to be alone. He's changed in the time since it happened. He gets angry. Angrier than he's been in his life. He smashed his mirror a few days ago. Reveled at the sight of blood on his fist. He’ll hold his head underwater in the bathtub until he can't anymore and come home late for no reason. At first his parents hadn't said anything. Grief was normal. Now it was getting out of control and he could sense their anxiety. Hans’ too. Ernst shakes his head awkwardly.

“C’mon, I’ll dress your wounds or that whole cliche right?” Hans tries to crack a smile. “Ernst c’mon…” 

“She called that night.” Ernst says, not looking him in the eye. 

“What?” He looks confused, not registering what was being said.

“She called me the night before she,” he pauses, “the night before she died. When we were…”

Hans sighs. It’s like he can sense what's coming in an odd way. Like Ernst finally breaking was an inevitability.

“She asked me to come over. She said she needed me, that something was wrong and she needed my help. And I-I just ignored her. I was with you so I just you know, what could she possibly need? My silly little cousin and then and then…” he seems to be choking on his own words. 

“Oh Ernst.” Hans says softly.

“I don't know if I could've saved her. I mean what do I know? Stupid stoner. I'd probably have just told her to drink it away anyway...but maybe, maybe…” he realizes suddenly that he's going to start crying and his face heats up in shame. “Don't look at me like that! I'm not some wounded bird! I just-I hate myself! I hate myself!” He yells it like a revelation. It all makes sense now, he hates himself. He hates himself for being too selfish or stupid to save her. It was a fitting punishment in a way. Everyone was telling him he was “going down the wrong track.” The weed, the drinking, the sex, that constant “you were such a good boy Ernst.” In primary school he had been a kid the teachers praised and recommended. His parents hadn't noticed. Now he's become a lost cause and they don't notice either. It took Wendla dying for them to even remember they had a son again, he thought. He got what he wanted. 

Hans takes a step back. He looks way in over his head. Scared, no not scared Ernst thinks as he examines him further, sad. “I'm sorry I'm laying this on you. I'm sorry. You're not involved. You said not to be sad. I'm sorry.”

“Don't be sorry.” Hans says quietly. He reaches for the other boy and he erupts into tears. Gross heaving sobs that have been suppressed for days. He didn't cry when she died. But he's crying now. Hans is taken aback at first but reluctantly reaches out and pulls the boy in towards his chest.

“I'm just so angry.” Ernst says wiping his nose with his sleeve, trying to calm his sobs. “I want to kill him or myself or her mom or yell at her for being so stupid. I can't shake this feeling. It's like always in my stomach.”

“I felt it once too.” Hans tells him softly and Ernst’s red eyes look up at him. “When my mom died.”

“Does it ever go away?” He asks.

“It dulls. We forget.” Hans pauses for a second as if contemplating how to say what comes next. “I just sort of blinded myself with pleasure and shit. I tried to make myself numb.”

It all clicks into place in Ernst’s mind at that point. The “skim off the cream” the “we should never be sad” the weird sex dungeon fantasies. He'd never even suspected. He reaches for the other boy, placing a hand on the back of his neck.

“I don't want us to be numb anymore. Me being numb killed-” he cuts himself off “it's stupid. We're here. We're alive.”

“It's easier to be numb. You know that as well as I do.” 

“Yeah, but it's stupid isn't? Skim off the cream? Bullshit. Some things matter. This matters. We matter.”

“I guess. I don't know Ernst.” The other boy suddenly can't meet his eyes and anxiety rises in Ernst’s chest.

“I love you.”

“You say that but do you even know what that means? You blew me for drugs Ernst. Melchior asked you to settle your guys’ tabs so you blew me for weed. Since when does that make you fall in love with me. I'm not accepting I love yous from a heartbroken boy who has no idea what he's saying.” 

Hans’ words cut but they only make Ernst continue. “I know what I'm saying. I only ever feel good when I'm with you. You make me feel necessary. You see me.” 

Hans shakes his head, smiling. “You're an idiot. You're such an idiot.”

“Alright.” Ernst tells him and he leans in for a kiss. Softer than any they've ever shared. It's a selfless kiss in a sense. 

“Let's go home. Let me take care of you.” Hans tells him beginning to get up and move towards the gate. Ernst sits there for a second breathing slowly. “Ernst?”

“One second.” He sits there, on the dusty playground floor. Staring ahead at the sun just starting to set behind the schoolhouse. He's lost, maybe. Lost and scared like every other boy going down “the wrong track.” Stupid and wanting attention and hating mommy and daddy for hugging him too little and taking him to church too much. Missing Wendla. But that doesn't matter right now. Because Hans Rilow is extending his hand to him. Hans Rilow is shooting him softly pleading looks from brown eyes, dark skin catching the setting sun’s red rays. He grabs his hand and holds it tightly. 

“Alright. I'm ready.”

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah that was that this is for lydia


End file.
